


Blood Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cannibalism, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, IM REALLY SORRY FOR THIS, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Viktor is a Cannibal, i dont really know why i wrote this, yuri is a brave soul, yuuri is the real champ here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Viktor acts on whims sometimes, but this time... he's acting on limbs.(this is the same shitty pun I used on wattpad imsosorry)





	Blood Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo. Warning: this fic is an actual mess. It's a really weird fic, but I've gotten a lot of positive reactions to it on wattpad for some reason. I've also rewritten it and made some changes to the plot, and I'm excited to write it.
> 
> Anyway, good luck!

It was Friday. A nice day, it had been. A few clouds scattered across the sky, the weather cool without being cold. Unfortunately, I had not been able to enjoy the weather. I was at the rink with Yuuri all day that day.

He left before I did, I think that was the first mistake. I wanted to skate alone for a while, to work out some things I’d been having trouble with in my program. It was a good reason to stay behind, I know, but that doesn’t stop me from regretting it.

See, if I’d gone home with Yuuri like I usually did, I would have been home before the murder happened.

I assume it was a murder, anyway. I’d heard a scream, which is why I ended up walking towards the dead woman on the ground. A knife in her chest, blood pooled around her. I should’ve called the police, but I only stood there pondering what her blood and flesh would taste like for longer than I should’ve been at the scene in any case.

I rushed home, without calling the police, to find Yuuri working on dinner. Unappetized as I was, I took a shower to clear my thoughts.

I remember wondering what happened to me. Why I was so intrigued by the blood, by the body. That was the first time I felt something like that and as much as I wished - as I still do wish - that was the last time, it was not.

The thought of cannibalism lingered on my mind throughout the night, and remained the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. I suppressed it for nearly a week, in favor of not worrying Yuuri by going out alone at night.

However, the feeling I had, the want for human flesh, only got stronger. I didn’t make it a week without acting on it. That was my second mistake: letting that urge consume me.

The night I decided to act on it, I took a big risk. I trusted that no one knew that the skates weren’t the only thing I brought to the rink with me.

 

**

 

After skating, I left the rink and I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing, or what my plan was. I knew that heading the opposite direction of my house was the safest bet, so I trusted that alone. I think I’d unrealistically hoped to find another corpse. Necro-cannibalism would’ve been easy, no murders on my conscious.

I was not so lucky.

The best I could find was a drunkard stumbling down an alleyway, looking like he would’ve beaten up the next person he saw. This was my third mistake, though you’ll find out why at a later time.

I used the knife I took with me to intrude his chest cavity after I snuck up on him. None of this was done with much grace, which is a silly thing to point out but something I regret nonetheless. I prefer to look at this ritual as something beautiful, even though I know it’s not, and it can never be.

Calling it “beautiful” seems to dull the red and the guilt.

My first taste of blood left me with false expectations, as the blood was intoxicated and bitter. I didn’t know then that not all blood tasted that way, that it tasted far better.

Of course, I also thought, maybe I wouldn’t ever taste blood again. Maybe I just had to do it this one time and the craving would go away. I knew better, I knew it wouldn’t go away, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming.

Looking back, I think dreaming was a mistake. It just built up my hopes, only to be shattered down. I’d hoped to not have to be a cannibal any longer, and then when I realized that was inevitable, I hoped being  cannibal wouldn’t make me a bad person, wouldn’t have any consequences.

I was wrong, as would be expected. There were consequences, and one of them is the reason why eating a drunkard was a mistake.

When I was walking home, I wondered why I had done what I did. I tried to regret it, becoming a cannibal, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to. I told myself the foolish lie of, “this is the first and last time.” I knew it was a lie. I knew.

This man was not only the first meal I had of human flesh, but he was the first man whose blood seeped into the cracks of my hands, labeling me a murderer, and there was no going back.

 

**

 

I only lasted a few days after I ate the man until I had to do it again. I tried to find the worst people I could so I wouldn’t feel as bad about myself, but that was also a mistake. 

At this point was when Yuuri began suspecting something was up. I’d told him I was just struggling with some choreography, but that wasn’t an excuse I could easily drag out.

I partially mended his worry by taking him on a date.

I remember this very well, the date. We went on a walk and then out to lunch, and it was the first time in roughly 2 weeks that I’d forgotten about my blood lust, which was a victory to me of the past.

I remember on the walk, Yuuri and I talked about our relationship, how much more comfortable we became with each other, and what we expected out of our future. We grazed the subject of marriage, which was strange to me at the time, because I’d never really considered marriage.

It was nice to think about our options, and for me to realize that not all of my previous dreams were still unrealistic.

These happy, uninfected thoughts were ceased when we sat down at a diner for lunch. Thoughts of our future were so kindly interrupted by some asshole with a mouth full of lies and a girlfriend covered in bruises that were not-so-hidden.

The thought occurred to me that I could eat the guy, fulfill my hunger, and the girlfriend would be rid of the abuse. It’s a win-win, right?

Yuuri had noticed my distraction and called me back to our table, as my mind was somewhere else. For a second, I was really scared. I’d thought, maybe Yuuri saw what I was staring at, maybe Yuuri could read my mind, maybe he’d known that I was a cannibal and that I probably would’ve preferred to eat the abusive boyfriend than the sandwich I’d order.

Not very rational thoughts, I know. Yuuri couldn’t have possibly read my mind or known I was a cannibal. Even if he knew something was weird, I doubt he would’ve guessed cannibalism.

Part of me wished he’d known. Some part of me wished that Yuuri would say he could read minds, he knew what I was thinking then, because that would be a weight off my shoulders.

Telling Yuuri was inevitable. I knew from the second I saw the woman lying on the street that at some point, I would have to tell Yuuri. If he already knew, that wouldn’t be something I had to worry about.

He didn’t know. We ate lunch like we would’ve any other time, and then we went home and relaxed, and laughed, and talked, and kissed. Everything was alright, everything was normal.

As we fell asleep, entangled in each other, the thought occurred to me that black might be infecting the seams of my mind.

 

**

 

A few weeks after Yuuri and I’s lunch date, Yuri was scheduled to fly in to visit us. I was very nervous about this, because Yuuri and I would be hosting a guest for three weeks, and I didn’t know how often I could get out alone. I was excited to see Yuri, yes, but absolutely terrified of what the abstinence would do to me.

The first day Yuri arrived went smoothly. I’d made sure to get out the night before, in hopes that would tide me over. Yuri and Yuuri and I just sat around that afternoon and enjoyed each other’s company.

The two days after that went well, too. It was on the third night that I became too hungry to bear. After Yuri and Yuuri had fallen asleep, I quietly made my way out of the house and down to the alley I usually went to.

After I’d finished eating, I heard a noise - footsteps. I thought I was alone. That was a mistake. I should’ve been checking all the walk through that I was alone. I shouldn’t have thought, I should’ve known.

I was not alone

I turned, blood covering my mouth and hands, and I saw a small silhouette in the lamp light. It was Yuri, standing there, aghast.

I asked Yuri what he was doing, why he was there, and I’d begun to say the classic line, “it’s not what it looks like!” I stopped myself before I finished though, because that was a blatant lie and I had no reason to say it.

I remember what he said next. He said, “Shut up, Viktor. Yuuri told me he was concerned about you when you go out alone at night. He said you’ve been acting weird. He thought maybe you were cheating. Maybe you were drinking. He asked me to follow you tonight. Neither of us expected this.”

Through years of knowing Yuri, I’d learned to pick up on how his face displayed his emotions. He was one of the people I was best at reading. In that moment, I had no idea what he was thinking. His face was indestructible, unreadable, encrypted.

I tried to apologize. For what, I don’t know. Because I’d let Yuri see this, maybe. Because I wasn’t the person Yuri thought I was, probably. But I was cut off.

Yuri told me he didn’t think I was sorry. Then he told me to wash up and explain to him. He told me that Yuuri was, in fact, asleep, so it would be a good idea to go home and shower, and I agreed.

After the blood and evidence of murder was washed down the drain, Yuri sat me down in the guest room, which was his room for the next few weeks, and asked me why I was a cannibal.

“Weeks ago, I found this girl, bleeding and stabbed,” is what I started with. “I was so… intrigued by her blood, by her body. I don’t know why, I don’t know if it’ll go away, but I haven’t been able to shake the idea, and act, of cannibalism since then. I don’t know if I even want to do away with it. It feels so good when I do this, and that scares me. Oh god… what are you going to tell Yuri? Are you going to tell him about this? Please don’t. I want to tell him sometime and I think it’d be better coming from me and I don’t know when a good time will be. I’ve been kind of looking for an opportunity to bring it up, but how do you tell your boyfriend you’ve become a cannibal?”

I was paranoid by that point. I was convinced that Yuuri would find out and that my life would be over. Realistic expectations for the situation, but frightening nonetheless.

Yuri stared at me for a while before he gave me an ultimatum. I had to tell Yuuri, or he would. I nodded and made my decision.

I was by no means proud of me being a cannibal, but it would be best if I was the one to tell Yuuri.

 

**

 

The day after Yuri followed me to the alley, was the day that I told Yuuri I was a cannibal.

I was prompted by Yuri. He arranged Yuuri and and I to sit down and talk. I don’t really know why he was so eager for me to tell Yuuri, and I never did find out.

This conversation is one I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

“Yuuri,” I said, “this is hard, really hard to say, so please listen. A few weeks ago, when I stayed back at the rink by myself, that’s when this started. On the way home, I found a girl, a corpse, lying on the road. She’d been stabbed, and the knife was still there. Blood was all around her, and I was drawn to it.” I remember how Yuuri’s eyes widened as I explained, as he tried to figure out what I meant. “The next day, when I went to skate alone, I took a walk afterwards. I found a man - a hostile drunk - and I… I killed him…” Yuuri was crying, hardly noticeable, but I learned to hate every tear that fell from his eyes.

“I stabbed him, and I ate him. And that’s what I did whenever I went out without you. It’s unexplainable, why I was so drawn to the first woman, and why I can’t seem to stop. I understand if you want to break up, if you want to tell the police. That would probably be the reasonable thing to do. I’m sorry…”

The way Yuuri looked at me, erasing his tears, shattered my heart. Both Yuri and I watched Yuuri. It was silent for a while. Then, he turned to Yuri, and he asked, “This is what you found him doing last night?” He looked to me after Yuri nodded. “Viktor? You’re… a cannibal? A murderer?”

“I’m a cannibal.”

For a while after that, Yuuri didn’t talk to me more than necessary. We shared “good morning”s and “goodnight”s, we asked each other questions when needed, we walked around the small town with Yuri while he was there.

It was quiet between us, but I can’t blame Yuuri.

The first thing Yuuri said to me that wasn’t prompted by anything, was said a week after Yuri returned to Russia, and three weeks after I told Yuuri I was a cannibal.

“Did you want to be a cannibal?” Yuuri asked.

I had to think about this question a lot. Yes, I thought, I saw the body of the woman and I wanted to eat it. That wasn’t right, though. My answer to Yuuri was no. No, I didn’t want to be a cannibal. Yes, I wanted to eat the woman, yes I still want to eat people, but no, I did not want to be drawn to the dead body. If I could go back and decide to walk home with Yuuri on that day, or if I could somehow stop craving the flesh of other humans, I would.

I still would.

Yuuri looked at me after I said, “No, I didn’t want to be a cannibal. I don’t want to be a cannibal,” and what Yuuri said in reply was not what I was expecting.

He looked at me and clearly said, just above a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

That was the end of our conversation.

The night that happened, I had a dream that was not my own.

The eyes I was seeing through in the dream were looking through glasses. They followed a path from a bar to a house. They looked at my hands - this person’s hands - which unlocked a door which was unfamiliar to me, but known better by these hands. Beyond the door was a wife and a kid. The wife was a beautiful woman. She had dark brown hair that was short and framed her face nicely. She looked like a good person.

The kid was no older than 10. He was watching TV, but paying more attention to the sketchbook on the coffee table in front of him. This person didn’t pay much attention to the kid.

The body I was in walked straight through the house and into a bathroom. I realized at some point that I was looking into a mirror. As I suspected, it was not myself that I saw.

The face was familiar, but where had I seen it before?

Hair darker than the woman’s, pulled back over an undercut into a loose bun. Black rectangle glasses, a navy collared button down. A handsome man, would it not be for the unforgiving look on his face.

That look was familiar as well.

I had not been able to hear anything throughout this dream, but when this man opened his mouth, I could hear him. He said, “You can never erase this.”

I woke up in a cold sweat and didn’t go back to sleep.

 

**

 

When I had the first dream, I was terrified, and with good reason.

I thought that perhaps that would be the only time I’d have such a dream, but I was unfortunately mistaken. The realistic dreams from perspectives I didn’t recognize continued, changing perspectives each time.

I did not understand why I was having these dreams, despite how hard I tried to give them reason.

I considered it was just a bout of nightmares I was experiencing. That they were nothing to worry about, and would go away soon. Of course, this would be a logical thought, except that the dreams felt incredibly real, and I always remembered them, and every single detail about what happened, what the setting was like, other people I saw, and most frightening of all, what each person would say before I woke up.

“You can never erase this.”

That was not something that should be said, or remembered, in a normal dream, or even a normal nightmare.

The next thing I considered was that I had some inner demons that were materializing via my dreams. I couldn’t figure out what I might be scared of enough to make me dream something like that, though, so I dismissed that idea pretty quickly.

The reason for the dreams that made the most sense to me, was that I had a guilty conscience about eating people. This was reasonable, and pretty close to what I discovered was the real reason for the dreams. It was logical to think that how bad I felt about eating people would well up and terrify me in my sleep, so for a while, I really thought that’s what was causing the dreams.

It wasn’t until about 3 weeks into having these dreams that I had the same perspective as the first night, and this time, I finally recognized that face.

It would have been hard to recognize, because when I met this face in real life, the street lights were hardly bright enough to provide a clear view at the first person I cannibalized, the drunk man from the alleyway.

**Author's Note:**

> What a wild trip, huh? And this is only the first chapter.


End file.
